Young Daisies
by Asctera
Summary: Romano knew this guy was going to be trouble. He knew it from the very beginning.


_Pairing : I don't think there really is a pairing, in this. Except for past-HRE/Chibitalia._

 _Summary : Romano knew this guy was going to be trouble. He knew it from the very beginning._

 _Warning: potential historical inacurracy._

 _Disclaimer. Hetalia is not mine. Still._

* * *

Romano knew from the first day he saw him that this guy was going to be trouble. He was knee-high to a grasshopper, the first time he met him, as Spain had brought his little colony along to visit Austria and little Veneziano, but he knew already. Blue eyes, blond hair. Holy Roman Empire, this was his name. Even at this age, Romano could see how much Veneziano liked the young boy. _Loved_ him.

He would have liked to be jealous as little Romano was being completely ditched by his brother who would rather spend his afternoon gathering flowers from the grass, chasing after an Holy Roman Empire that would act like he was upset by the attention – he was not, for sure. He would have liked to be jealous because he had all the right to be. He was not. The older Italian couldn't quite explain to himself why. Maybe because his _fratellino_ just looked so happy, so complete with this big annoying goofy smile stuck on his face. Who would he be to be upset over that? So he spent his afternoon watching, simply watching, the various scenes playing in front of his eyes, sitting on a wall from a distance. He watched, until it was time to go.

He knew this guy was going to be trouble. He knew it, from the very beginning.

His brother had grown really attached to the small boy, he could perfectly see it everytime he would come to pay a visit, but also from the various stories Spain would tell him the few times he couldn't bring Romano along. He had grown really attached, _too_ attached. And when the older Italy heard about the death of this same boy, one day, thousands of years later, when the two Italies had grown to be teenagers, he knew he had been right. He did not asked for Spain to pay a visit to Austria. They did, nonetheless.

"He is dead, _fratello_."

"I know."

There was no suffering in the younger Italian's voice, no tears, only a plain expression as they were sitting outside of Austria's big manor, staring at a nothing in the distance. The silence was not anything near awkward. Romano waited for Veneziano to cry, to let everything out. It never happened. So they only sat there in perfect silence, Romano's hand brushing against his little brother's in a shy attempt to bring him some comfort.

Until it was time to go.

* * *

It was puerile, it was stupid, but Romano had hated the young boy with all his might for making his brother suffer. It was ridiculous, it was childish, but he had. He had made false promises, he had said he would come back. He never did. The few visits that follow where always the same: no tears, no complains, only Veneziano standing here in silence. His smile had disappeared, but he would have said he did not feel sad. Romano knew it to be perfect bullshit.

And, now, they were going to work for a unification. There was no way Romano would let anyone else hurt his little brother again anytime close, but for that to never happen again, he needed to be there at all time.

1861\. The two Italies where unified. Their was flags floating in the sky. Their new one, their unified flag: green, white, red with the Savoy shield and royal crown in the middle. Children were playing, men and women were crying, everyone was cheering. Veneziano smiled, tears of joy escaping his eyes. Oh, how he had missed that smile. Romano didn't resist the urge to take him into his arms. And he hold him tight, lengthily, for what seemed to be hours.

* * *

Veneziano had spent days, months, years maybe talking about this new friend he had just made himself. _Germany_. Romano hated him from the very beginning. The younger Italian was getting close, too close to someone again. He didn't want to see his dear little brother break into pieces once more. He refused to meet him despite his brother's insistence. He didn't care about this Germany guy, didn't want to see him, didn't want to put a face on all the hatred he felt in his stomach everytime Veneziano would bring him into the conversation. He didn't plan on meeting him anytime soon. He did eventually, on World War I.

Blue eyes, blond hair. He had already seen it and he perfectly knew where.

"So, you're back?" the older Italian had asked when he and Germany had first been left alone.

The only answer he met was mid-confusion in the German usually inexpressive eyes. "Hm?"

"Nothing." Romano said, looking at the horizon rather than at _this_ guy standing on his left. "Just know that if you ever hurt him or abandon him again, I swear I'm killing you. And if you're already dead, I'll find something else to do. Like peeing on your grave or something."

"Your brother is a good ally, I'll never let him down."

"That's what they say."

Germany didn't ask who was this "they" he was talking about. Romano knew he wanted to.

He had hated him from the very beginning. But then he saw that sparkle in his brother's eyes again. The long lost happiness. This one even _he_ , his own brother, hadn't been able to bring back after all those years. And, then, maybe he started hating him a little less.

* * *

 _After all those Itacest fanfictions, a more family-centric fiction for once. I surely didn't mean for it to be GerIta, since I'm not such a big fun of the pair, but now that I'm reading it again, it does sound like it, doesn't it? Let's say that you are free to interpret it as you wish!_

 _Also, I wanted to apologize for not publishing anything for such a long period of time! I had a lot going on and didn't feel like writing so much. But I'm back now and I have a lot of new ideas!_

 _~Asctera_


End file.
